


the skies are full of them

by Rhovanel



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Asexuality Spectrum, F/F, Falling In Love, Post-Mass Effect 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-06 20:55:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11608770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhovanel/pseuds/Rhovanel
Summary: "I’ve already wasted months of my life distrusting an excellent woman over her connection to Cerberus. I’m not going to make the same mistake twice.”





	the skies are full of them

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bloomingcnidarians](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloomingcnidarians/gifts).



They first meet in what remains of the city of London.

It’s six months after the end of the war, but it may as well be six weeks. The city still smells like ash and dust, and the air feels heavy, though with grief rather than dread. 

The Alliance is holding what they’re calling a “service of celebration”, a recognition of all those who lost their lives in the war, but everyone knows it’s really a funeral for Commander Shepard.

Miranda hovers at the edge of the crowd. She knows many of the people present, by reputation if not by previous acquaintance, but the large groups of Alliance soldiers set her teeth on edge. She knows they’ll only ever see Cerberus when they look at her. So she keeps to herself, exchanging a few words with some of the crew of the SR-2, but mostly observing from a distance.

Her eyes keep returning to the other human spectre. Lieutenant Commander Ashley Williams, she reminds herself. She knows her history - she’d done the research for the Illusive Man before Horizon, of course. Alliance born and bred, large and devoted family, a temper that has a tendency to get her into trouble, but strong leadership potential. But more importantly, she knows how to read a person. Military blood in her squared shoulders and firm tread, confident extraversion in her easy smile and relaxed arms. Despite the grief that hangs over them all, she exudes a sense of purpose.

Miranda envies her that. She doesn’t regret leaving Cerberus - not at all - but sometimes she misses the simple pleasure of competently doing a job you were good at. And Williams is good at hers, she can tell. She draws people towards her like a magnet.

So she’s surprised when Williams excuses herself from a group of soldiers and crosses the plaza to stand by her side.

“Miranda Lawson,” she says, and holds out a hand. Miranda notices that she doesn’t use a title, but then, even she isn’t sure what hers would be these days.

“Lieutenant Commander,” she says carefully. “Your reputation precedes you.”

Ashley snorts. “Right back at you. Genius doctor, brilliant biotic, engineered excellence in basically every field.”

Miranda flinches, unsure if she’s mocking her. “Not any more, I think,” she says, turning away.

“Hey,” Ashley says, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. Reputations are a bitch. I don’t know how Shepard managed it.” She waves an arm back towards the crowds in the square. “Did you know they’re talking about erecting a statue to her memory? ‘The saviour of the galaxy’ or something like that.”

“She would have hated it,” Miranda says softly.

“Yeah. She would have.”

A silence falls between them as they stare across the ruins.

“So,” Ashley says suddenly, “what’s next?”

“Is that a practical question or an existential one?”

Ashley laughs. “Ugh, every question is an existential one these days. But really, what are you going to do now?”

Miranda looks out across the broken city. “I’m not sure,” she says, “but I look forward to finding out.”

“Me too,” Ashley replies quietly, and their eyes meet for what feels like a long moment.

“Well, don’t be a stranger, Lawson,” Ashley says, sauntering away back towards the Alliance contingent. 

Miranda watches her go, wondering if she can shake her habits of secrecy and containment enough to live up to Ashley’s request. 

*******

Ashley spends the next nine months helping with the war relief effort. She goes where the Alliance sends her, mostly to small colonies and outposts where people are struggling and angry. She quickly gains a name for conflict resolution - somewhat ironically, she thinks. Shepard was the peacemaker. She was just a soldier.

But god, she’s bored. This isn’t what she thought being a Spectre would be like. The Alliance are obviously using her for image control. She doesn’t begrudge them for that, really, she just wishes it wasn’t her.

After one visit she returns to her cabin, unclipping her armour as she walks through the door. She accidentally catches the corner of a stack of data pads she’d left haphazardly stacked on her desk, and they go flying across the floor.

“Damn it,” she exclaims, bending down to scoop them up. “Special tactics and reconnaissance,” she mutters, “more like shitty tasks and red tape.”

She realises there’s a message blinking at her terminal, and she leans over to open it up with a groan.

_“Lieutenant Commander,_

_Getting reports of some loose Cerberus agents gathering in the outsystem. They’re low on funds and supplies, but they’re making enough noise to be a problem. Use whatever force you deem necessary, just shut them down. We didn’t win the war only to lose the last battle._

_Hackett out.”_

“YES!” Ashley exclaims, spinning around with glee. She flings herself down on her bed and looks up at the stars through the skylight she’d insisted upon when she first took over the SSV-Trafalgar. As her initial euphoria subsides, she’s left with a gnawing sensation in her stomach. She’s not just bored, she knows. She’s lonely. There’s nothing wrong with her crew, but they’re all very correct about giving her the respect demanded by her rank and her history. She misses the easy camaraderie of the Normandy. She’s not sure her crew will ever see her as anything other than her reputation.

An idea comes to her suddenly. She knows she should probably clear it with Hackett, but she’s up and typing away at her terminal before she loses her nerve. 

_“Lawson,_

_About to go chasing some stray dogs across the outsystems, and I’m in need of an XO. Know anyone qualified? Shitty pay, but one hell of a view._

_Williams.”_

She’s barely made any headway on her paperwork when the reply comes through.

_“Lieutenant Commander,_

_Pick me up from Mars on your way out._

_Lawson.”_

Ashley smiles.

*******

Miranda settles into the Trafalgar quickly. There’s something reassuring about the familiarity of the routine of an XO - overseeing the crew, managing discipline. She doesn’t even mind the stacks of paperwork. 

And more importantly, she likes working with Ashley. She’s quick to laugh and quicker to argue, and she’s obviously relishing the opportunity to get back into the fight. But she treats her like an equal. There’s none of the familiar distrust she’s grown accustomed to receiving.

She asks Ashley about it one evening, when they’re sitting in the mess hall. Ashley looks bemused by the question.

“Lawson, your Cerberus intel hasn’t let us down yet. In fact, we’d be struggling without it.”

“I could be setting you up,” she says.

Ashley shakes her head. “I know what you did on Horizon. We wouldn’t have got there in time if it wasn’t for you.”

“I didn’t really do it for the colonists,” Miranda says, looking away. “I’m not that kind of hero - that was Shepard.”

“No, you did it for your sister.” Ashley sets her fork down. “I have three sisters, all younger than me. Basically raised them myself. They can be a right pain in the ass, but god, if I wouldn’t drop everything if one of them was in trouble.” She meets her gaze across the table. “You weren’t afraid to leave behind everything you knew to help your family. I respect that.”

Miranda doesn’t know how to respond, so she simply nods.

Ashley picks up her fork. “Besides, I’ve already wasted months of my life distrusting an excellent woman over her connection to Cerberus. I’m not going to make the same mistake twice.”

Miranda blinks in surprise at the compliment. “I…thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Ashley smiles. “But please don’t stab me in the back, because you’ll make me look really stupid.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Miranda laughs.

When they finally arrive at the outpost, Miranda is in her office when the call comes over the comm. 

“Suit up, Lawson, we’re going planetside.”

“As your XO, I feel I should remind you that you have soldiers for this job.”

“Oh, I’ve got plenty of soldiers. But why don’t you show me what you can do?”

Miranda doesn’t need to be asked twice. It’s been a long time since she was in a proper fight, and she can feel her biotics buzzing under her skin on the shuttle on the way down. She follows just behind Ashley as they cross the dusty surface of the planet, then waits as their tech specialist unlocks the door to the bunker.

She’s impressed with how Ashley carries herself. She’s calm and methodical, positioning her team appropriately and moving swiftly but silently through the empty hallways. She does everything perfectly - well, at least until they reach the room with the Cerberus agents, when she makes the mistake of attempting to negotiate first. Miranda had warned her that they’d be violent and on edge, particularly after months of effectively being without leadership or instruction. 

“I’m Lieutenant Commander Williams of the Alliance Navy,” Ashley begins, taking a step into the room, gun raised. “Drop your weap-”

Miranda sees a flicker of movement in the corner of the room, and flings up a barrier just in time to catch the bullet heading straight for Ashley’s head. She sees Ashley throw her a look of surprised gratitude before the battle takes over.

She can only ever recall battles as flickers of sense memories, and this one exists in her mind as patterns of blue and black. Her blue biotics and Ashley’s blue Alliance suit swirling around one another, the deep black of their Spectre-grade weapons dancing across her vision. When she comes back to herself, the Cerberus officers are all dead, and Ashley is breathing heavily.

“Not bad, Lawson,” she says. 

“Not bad?” Miranda snaps. “You’d have a bullet between your eyes if it wasn’t for me. I told you, when it comes to Cerberus, shoot first and ask questions later.”

“I know, I know,” Ashley says, kicking a container in frustration. “God, I just…we’ve lost so many lives. I don’t want to take any more unless I have to.”

Miranda comes to stand by her side. “You just need to remember that Cerberus don’t play by the rules.”

“Maybe not,” Ashley says, bristling. “But we’re Alliance.”

“How can you-” A noise from the corner of the room interrupts their argument. Miranda raises her gun but Ashley steps immediately into her line of fire.

“Come out now,” she says firmly, and a figure timidly emerges from behind a shipping container. She’s wearing a Cerberus uniform, but she doesn’t look like a standard Cerberus operative. _Scraping the bottom of the barrel_ , Miranda thinks.

“Oh my god…they’re all dead.”

“Damn straight they’re all dead,” Ashley says. “That’s what happens to terrorists.”

The woman immediately starts babbling. “Oh god, please don’t kill me! I just…there’s nothing left out here. Cerberus promised something for us.”

“I know,” Ashley says. “You’re scared and you’re hungry and you’re so tired. But Cerberus isn’t going to fix that, and you know that.”

The woman hangs her head. “I…I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” Ashley says. “I’m sorry for all of the things that have happened in the last two years to bring you to this point. But how about we stop fighting fire with fire?”

She holds out a hand, and the woman hands over her weapon.

Ashley gestures at two of her squad, while sending a call back to the ship. “Trafalgar, situation is under control. I need a med check and some rations for multiple civilians. Williams out.”

Miranda is impressed with her efficiency and her empathy. She walks quietly to her side. “That was masterfully done.”

“It’s just my job,” Ashley says simply.

“Maybe,” says Miranda, “but that doesn’t mean that you’re not good at it.”

Ashley nods, accepting the compliment. “As long as I’ve got you to watch my back, right?”

“Right,” Miranda says. They walk back to the ship together, and Miranda feels herself relaxing into a feeling of companionship, as if she were letting go of a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding.

*******

One morning, Ashley enters the observation deck to find Miranda doing some sort of exercise routine. Well, she thinks it’s exercise. Her hair is tied back and she’s dressed in loose fitting clothes, but she’s moving gracefully and slowly, stretching her limbs. She glances over her shoulder. 

“Williams,” she says. “You’re up early.”

Ashley perches herself on the side of a chair. “I suppose.” She takes a sip of her coffee. “What are you doing?”

“It’s an asari routine, designed to help control biotic energy.” She raises her arms above her head, then brings them to a point in front of her, making a graceful circle. “Samara taught it to me when we served on the Normandy. I don’t have the patience for meditation, but this - this I can do.”

Ashley watches her for a time in silence. Miranda always carries herself with a quiet sense of assurance, but here, she’s even more centred and in control. It’s mesmerising. She struggles to look away, her gaze lingering on the back of her neck and her wrists, as she moves slowly in time with something Ashley can’t seem to grasp.

“Could you teach me?” she blurts out.

Miranda stops, and turns to face her. “You don’t have biotics,” she says, not quite a question.

“No, but…” she trails off. She doesn’t know how to express that she’d like to be that calm, and that collected.

Miranda, of course, has always been too perceptive. “Come here,” she says, stepping aside to make room for her. She guides her through the initial steps, but Ashley feels awkward and clumsy. One movement in particular aggravates the old shoulder injury she sustained in London, which she hasn’t been taking care of and has never properly healed.

“Stop,” Miranda says, and approaches Ashley, her hands hovering above her shoulder. “May I?” 

Ashley nods. Miranda places her hands gently on her shoulder, pressing into the muscles at certain points. Her touch is sure and confident, and Ashley is suddenly reminded of how she basically built Shepard from scratch. A shiver runs down her spine, which she doesn’t think is entirely due to horror. 

“I guess you know how bodies work,” she says.

“I guess I do,” Miranda says evasively.

“That must come in handy in the bedroom,” Ashley says, then curses inwardly.

“Hmmm,” Miranda says noncommittally. “I prefer to use my skills elsewhere.”

Ashley twists to look at her. “Oh,” she says. “That’s cool. A bit unexpected, maybe, but cool.”

Miranda shifts her hands to prod at the muscles in her upper back. “Unexpected why?”

“Well, I just figured…with a perfect body and all…”

“There are other things bodies are good for besides sex,” Miranda says firmly, pressing her hand into Ashley’s shoulder in a way that makes her groan appreciatively.

“Okay, point made,” she says, and Miranda smirks at her, then takes a step back.

“I won’t promise anything, but we’ll modify the routine and I’ll give you some stretches to do in your own time.”

“Thank you,” Ashley says. “I mean it.”

Miranda rolls her own shoulders. “Will we try it again?”

They re-start the routine, and even though Ashley knows she can’t replicate the grace of Miranda’s movements, she feels lighter and more at ease in her body for the rest of the day. It becomes a morning ritual, and Ashley revels in the simple pleasure in moving in tandem with Miranda.

But afterwards, if she spends too long thinking about the touch of Miranda’s hands on her shoulder, the elegant lines of her body, and dark hair against pale skin - well, she’ll just have to deal with that on her own.

*******

Miranda is returning to her office with a stack of datapads one night cycle when she hears Ashley’s raised voice from the comm room. 

“With all due respect, sir, you said we needed to deal with this threat.”

“And you’ve done that.” She recognises the grumbling tones of Admiral Hackett.

“But the job’s not finished, sir.”

“It’ll never be finished, Lieutenant Commander. You know that. There’ll always be disgruntled civilians who think that picking up a gun and an ideology is the solution to their problems.”

“But sir-”

“Williams, we need you back on Earth. You’re a spectre, not a mercenary. Stop gallivanting around the outsystems with that Lawson woman and come home.”

From where she’s standing, Miranda can see Ashley’s shoulders snap. 

“ _That Lawson woman_ has saved my skin more times than I can count. She’s an asset to this team and to the Alliance. Her intel has never let us down, not once.”

“For now,” says Hackett. “But you can’t seriously trust her.”

“With my life. I’m doing a job that needs to be done. I’m doing a job I’m good at with my-” she pauses suddenly, and Miranda’s heart skips a beat. “…with my extremely competent executive officer, and if that makes me a damn space pirate, then so be it. _Sir_ ,” she spits, then cuts the connection.

Miranda walks quietly into the room. “That may have been unwise,” she says.

Ashley spins to face her, high patches of colour on her cheeks. “How dare he stand there and talk about things he doesn’t understand-”

Miranda reaches out and places a hand on her arm. “Ashley,” she says, “calm down.” 

Ashley takes a deep breath. “I need a drink,” she groans, and grips Miranda’s wrist. “Come on,” she says, pulling her out of the room and down the hallway to the observation deck. She rummages around in cupboard, pulling out two glasses and a bottle of something. She turns to Miranda with a mischievous smile.

Miranda puts her datapads down on the table. “You know you employ me to do a job, right?”

“Come on, Miranda, live a little. Besides, you can’t leave me to drink alone after I’ve just defended your honour. You owe me.”

Miranda takes the proffered glass and sits on the couch. “What did Hackett want?” 

“Ugh,” Ashley groans. “He wants me grounded back on Earth, paraded around as a symbol of victory and stability.”

“He might be right, you know.”

“What, I’d look good out the front of a parade?”

Miranda laughs. “I’m sure you would,” she says, and the smirk Ashley gives her in return fills her with satisfaction. “But you know what we’re doing out here is endless. This isn’t a battle we can win definitively.”

Ashley sighs. “I thought we could pull it up by the roots, you know? That after everything we went through during the war, this would just be a case of tying up loose ends. But nothing is ever that simple, is it?”

She stands up and approaches the glass, staring out at the stars. It’s a behaviour Miranda has noticed before, something she does when she’s stressed or agitated.

“What do you see when you look at the universe?” she asks.

“Is that a practical question or an existential one?” Ashley smiles at her over her shoulder.

There’s something about hearing her own words in Ashley’s mouth that sends a shiver down her spine. “Both, I think.”

Ashley turns her gaze back to the stars. “The most accurately transmitted, most untranslatable language in the universe,” she says softly.

“What?” Miranda isn’t sure if she’s heard her correctly.

“Adrienne Rich,” Ashley says, “One of the most well-known female poets of the twentieth century. She wrote this poem for the sister of a famous astronomer - the one who discovered Uranus - who did all of the work for none of the credit.”

“Herschel,” Miranda says automatically, then curses inwardly for interrupting.

Ashley smirks. “Of course you know your history.”

“Science, maybe. Poetry…not so much.”

Ashley places her hand lightly against the window. “A Williams has to be better than the best. My father told me that. Just like Caroline Herschel, and all the women Rich wrote the poem for, who had to work twice as hard to be half as good.”

She runs her hand along the glass. “That’s what I see when I look at the universe,” she says, her voice almost a whisper. “Legacy. And…love. The people who came before me, the ones who will come after, and,” she turns to meet Miranda’s eyes, “the ones who hold me up now so I can reach for the stars.”

Miranda finds herself unable to speak. She is captivated by the complexity of the woman standing in front of her, a woman who recites poetry as easily as she makes a sarcastic comment, whose straightforward manner belies an incredible depth of feeling, and who is currently looking at her like she holds all of the answers the universe behind her fails to provide.

Ashley looks away and the moment passes. She reaches for the bottle and returns to the couch, and they talk and laugh into the night until Ashley drifts off. Miranda works through her tasks, eased by Ashley’s steady breathing. She feels safer here on this ship than she ever has in her entire life, and she’s certain it has less to do with her father’s absence than with the presence of the woman at the other end of the couch. _The most untranslatable language in the universe_ , she thinks to herself, as she reaches over to gently brush a loose lock of hair away from Ashley’s face.

***

Two days out from Earth, Ashley is in the cargo bay, cleaning and re-assembling her collection of weapons. Her anger is radiating off her like a furnace, and the crew are giving her a wide berth. Everyone thinks it’s because she’s doesn’t want to return to the ground, and it’s partly that. But really, she can’t stand the thought of being without Miranda.

She can feel her anger thrumming through her body in time to the steps of her maintenance routine. It’s her own version of Miranda’s asari routine, all sharp clicks and clacks instead of smooth graceful lines.

 _Click._ She’ll lose her XO. 

_Snap._ She’ll lose a damn fine biotic. 

_Clunk._ She’ll lose her partner. 

And she is her partner, in all the ways that matter. She’s her confidante and her back-up and the person she trusts more than anyone else.

 _Damn it all to hell_ , she thinks, and walks briskly down the corridor to Miranda’s office.

Miranda is sitting on her couch, and looks up as she enters. “Ashley, I was just coming to find you,” she says. “I’ve spoken to Liara, and she’s got some work lined up for me.”

Ashley marches over to the couch and drops to her knees in front of her. Miranda looks alarmed.

“Come with me,” Ashley says simply.

A silence falls between them, then Miranda sighs. “There’s no place for me in the Alliance,” she says. “You know that.”

“There’s always a place for you at my side. To hell with what the Alliance thinks. We’ll figure it out.”

“I can’t ask that of you.” Miranda gets up off the couch and paces, uncharacteristically agitated. 

“I thought I was the one doing the asking,” Ashley replies.

“I won’t ask you to throw your career away just because I want -” she stops and takes a shuddering breath.

Ashley’s stomach lurches with hope. “You want…?”

Miranda comes over and holds out a hand, pulling Ashley to her feet. “Ash,” she says softly. She doesn’t let go of her hands.

Ashley feels her heart hammering in her throat. “I thought you didn’t like…” she trails off.

“I don’t,” Miranda says. “But I like you.” She takes a deep breath. “We’ll figure it out,” she says quietly, half a question, half an invitation.

Ashley doesn’t need to be asked twice. She reaches out to gently trace her hand along Miranda’s cheek, down to the soft smile playing at the corner of her lips. Before she loses her nerve, she leans in to plant a gentle kiss at the top of her cheekbone, then sweeps her into a tight embrace. 

As Miranda’s arms close around her, she looks out at the universe behind them. “Yeah,” she murmurs against Miranda’s dark hair, “I think we will.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for a truly wonderful prompt by [bloomingcnidarians](http://archiveofourown.org/users/bloomingcnidarians/pseuds/bloomingcnidarians), who asked for a grey-ace Miranda and Ashley recognising the strength and potential in each other after the events of Mass Effect 3. Thank you for introducing me to this pairing, which I now ship _hard_. Hope you enjoy the fic.
> 
> The featured poem is Adrienne Rich’s [‘Planetarium’](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/46568/planetarium-56d2267df376c), which is well worth reading in its entirety. The title of this fic is also taken from the poem. The SSV-Trafalgar is a canon ship, Ashley’s biographical details are taken from the game, but everything else is my own invention.


End file.
